As a child, I wanted nothing more than to sing. I dreamed of standing under the bright lights of the stage and having my heart soar out over a sea of crowds. The sound of my voice would melt into music, and the instruments would play to my soul. But this was not meant to be.
In the seventh grade, a pen was placed in my hand. Writing seemed to come easy, but what was there to write about? And then the poetry began, a flood of emotion came crashing through, and ink spilled out across paper. And as time went on did creativity flourish, and imagination grabbed hold, giving life to thoughts and dreams.
And life found its way behind the camera. I strolled along the streets of Long Island, filming scenes from a script written for a college film project, and my cast of actors were students from college. And despite their refusal to follow scripted scenes and the want to improvise, the movie took off, and the result was an A+. But this would be my first and last brouhaha at writing, directing, and producing a movie, and I returned to only writing.
The college I attended was not of my choice. I would have preferred to have gone to Purchase or Fredonia, but I gave in to my father’s demands. And Oneonta would become my home for a few semesters, and I should have enjoyed the college life. But in protest of being denied from the other schools, I sought solitude in my dorm room, and the college experience passed me on by. And my creativity faded, and what passion I had in film began to dwindle.
One highlight of my time spent here was being on the college radio, known to those that listened as DJ Shade, and for the first semester, I created playlists filled with my favorite music. But creativity was itching, and ideas for the next term began to roll around in my head. And during my break would I begin to craft my idea into art, bringing something different back to school with me.
My passion lied within music, but it also rested with movies. Why not blend the two together? I already played a segment of three songs each, so in-between would I pull great lines, powerful scenes from unforgotten movies. It was an idea that I wished to see grow to fruition, and I knew it might need more tweaking. But this was never meant to be.
As I arrived home on break, I found my vhs tapes gone, shattered. I made a mistake taking them from the sanctuary of my room and moving them downstairs to the family room, and I thought they would have been safe placed on a high shelf. But I was wrong, and the movies cascaded down one day to the cold, hard floor. And my idea shattered with them, and again I returned only to the writing.
But despite the obstacles before me, the pen hardly fell from my hand, and thoughts and dreams continued to be fueled through creativity. And this was to be who I am, and what was once only poetry is now stories and articles. But my passion in making movies fell away, and instead did my fingers find home in typing screenplays that I hope to one day see across the silver screen. And maybe, just maybe, this will be meant to be, but whether it is or not, the writing will still continue.
by, Melissa R. Mendelson